


Under a Cherry Moon

by MercurialBianca_TheHonorableMrsMcCarthy



Series: The Singer - A Paisley Fantasy [1]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama & Romance, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 07:04:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6647065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurialBianca_TheHonorableMrsMcCarthy/pseuds/MercurialBianca_TheHonorableMrsMcCarthy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mac meets Daisy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under a Cherry Moon

**Author's Note:**

> How can I stand 2 stay where I am?  
> Poor butterfly who don't understand  
> Why can't I fly away in a special sky?  
> If I don't find my destiny soon,  
> I'll die in your arms under the cherry moon
> 
> I want to live life to the ultimate high  
> Maybe I'll die young like heroes die  
> Maybe I'll kiss u some wild special way  
> If nobody kills me or thrills me soon,  
> I'll die in your arms under the cherry moon
> 
> If that's alright
> 
> Lovers like us dear are born 2 die  
> If they don't find us what will we do?  
> I guess we'll make love under the cherry moon  
> I'll die in your arms under the cherry moon  
> ~Prince

Mac had settled into her favorite spot at the bar of her favorite club. The first whiskey arrived shortly thereafter with no words exchanged. Mac tipped her head in acknowledgement and thanks to Pearl. She’d been coming here long enough that Pearl knew what she needed sometimes before she did. 

It had been a rough couple of weeks. Mac was made of fairly stern stuff. You aren’t one of two women in the medical college without building up thick skin, but this week had been particularly odorous. The Women’s Hospital had new Board leadership and a couple of members didn’t take kindly to Mac’s “revolutionary tendencies and suspect associates.” None of which would have bothered Mac if it hadn’t resulted in her being called into several pointless meetings and been such an obvious ploy to assassinate her character solely on the basis of her nonconforming appearance and probable Sapphic leanings.

Seriously, who she did or did not sleep with was no one’s business but her own. And she could dress however she bloody well liked, thank you very much. It was all so draining. She had patients to care for, not one of which likely cared about either of these topics as long as they left the hospital better off than when they arrived.

Mac felt herself getting worked up again so she drained her whiskey and was about to wave for another (or was it her third?) when The Singer appeared next to her. 

The Singer had been a new transplant to the Antipodes. She’d heard he was American. Truth be told he was easily the most beautiful man she’d ever seen on stage but now that he was here next to her, well he was breathtaking. Even in Paris after the war, when Mac fully came to grips with her sexuality and spent her nights surrounded by women and men doing the same, she had never encountered anyone quite like The Singer. He wore a suit, but it was far more like something her friend Phryne would wear than any man she knew, or even like her own feminine cut tweed. In truth, he was as feminine as she was masculine. 

“Looks like someone’s had a tough week.”

His voice was soft and deep, far deeper than his petite body and androgynous appearance would suggest.

“You could say that.”

“I find dancing with a beautiful woman leads to a more satisfying morning after than booze.” 

“I’d be happy to test that theory, but it’s been a long time since I had a dance partner.”

“Come on now, a handsome woman like you? I don’t buy it.”

He set a soft hand on her arm and Mac unexpectedly felt her pulse quicken. He had leaned closer and Mac could make out the kohl around his eyes, giving him a doe-eyed appearance. And he had impossibly long lashes. He really was lovely and confusing to her.

“There is beauty all around Mac, if you keep your eye’s open to the possibilities.” 

She had always been a linear woman in her thinking, it was why she gravitated towards things she could anchor herself on, like math and science. Poetry and flowery talk was lost on her overall. But The Singer’s poetic words were intoxicating. And when had he learned her name?

“I start my set in a minute and I expect to see you out there with some lovely lady in your arms. You dig?”

Mac felt as if he was casting a spell, she couldn’t imagine not doing it. She gave him a rueful smile and he surprised her again by planting a kiss on her cheek. “I suggest you start at the end of the bar.” The heat of his breath against her ear sent a thrill through her. And then he was gone.

Mac felt under an enchantment and still lost in that feeling, she dared look up to the end of the bar. And there she was, a striking brunette. She looked like she could be Greek or Roman with the prominence of her nose and cheekbones. She wasn’t a classic beauty but intriguing. Not flashy or overly made up but not plain either. She had long dark curly hair that she’d tried to tame, but it wasn’t in a modern style and had an almost wild appearance. She wasn't what Mac usually went in for, but she was alluring. 

To her surprise, the woman was looking up at her as well which caused Mac to blush crimson as she realized she’d likely been staring at her. Well this was going well Mac scolded herself. Fortunately, the woman didn’t seem embarrassed at all and instead her mouth broke into a demure smile.

Confidence bolstered, Mac made her way over to the chestnut woman. 

“Good evening, I’m Elizabeth but my friend’s call me Mac.”

“Nice to meet you Mac, my name is Daisy.”


End file.
